


The Road Trip Misadventures of Murat, Lannes, and Ney (and Their Eventual Rescue by Napoleon)

by UselessGoats



Category: Alternate Universe - Fandom, Historical RPF, Modern AU - Fandom, Napoleonic Era RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Amusement Park, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Amusement Parks, Gen, Humor, Road Trips, Trifecta AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24881836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UselessGoats/pseuds/UselessGoats
Summary: This is the very first piece that Histoireettralala and I wrote together, and the intro to what we call our "Trifecta AU" (our Trifecta being Joachim Murat, Jean Lannes, and Michel Ney... AKA our Useless Goats). It started off as just being a humorous chat scenario on Tumblr and quickly took on a life of its own. And now... here we are. I've lost track of how many pages we've devoted to these three, and there will hopefully be many more to go. -JoachimNapoleonStory summary: Murat, Lannes, and Ney take a road trip to an amusement park; chaos, panic, and disorder ensue.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	The Road Trip Misadventures of Murat, Lannes, and Ney (and Their Eventual Rescue by Napoleon)

**[By JoachimNapoleon]**

The boys are squabbling over the keys. Ney doesn’t really want to drive but feels like he should because Lannes is notorious for his road rage and Murat is a speed demon. Lannes snatches the keys away, gets into the driver’s seat, and promptly slams the door shut before the other two can stop him. He sticks his tongue out at them for good measure. Ney and Murat give each other a nervous look and climb in. Ney is riding shotgun; Murat is in the back behind Ney.

Less than an hour later Lannes is tailgating someone who has the unmitigated gall to be driving THE SPEED LIMIT, WHO EVEN DOES THAT. He rages at length. The air is practically sulfurous from his explosive oaths. Murat melodramatically pretends to be choking, cranks the window down and sticks his head out, gasping. The other driver decides he’s had enough of this lunatic’s aggressive driving and brake-checks him. Lannes slams on the brake to avoid ramming him, sending Ney and Murat jerking forward violently in their seats. Murat, who is not wearing his seatbelt as usual because they’re for wimps and cowards, splats into the back of Ney’s seat. He is dazed and muttering curses. Lannes is now screaming every combination of profanity he can think of. Ney has had enough. PULL THE FUCK OVER, YOU’RE DONE.

“My turn!” Murat yanks a snarling, foam-flecked Lannes out of the driver’s seat. Lannes gets into the back, scowling, and sits with his arms crossed, grumbling about why can’t these fuckers just learn how to fucking DRIVE, GOD. Ney resumes riding shotgun, because Murat hates maps and Ney knows he’s going to need to give him directions. He guzzles a 5-Hour Energy, because he doesn’t anticipate this round going any better.

Half an hour later they are pulled over. Murat turns on the charm. Innocent eyes and a beaming smile should do the trick!! Good evening officer. I was going HOW fast? Heavens, I had no idea. I’m so sorry! Sometimes I get a little distracted. It won’t happen again!!! He pales when he sees the amount of the fine. Caroline is going to be furious, this is the second one this month. The officer departs. Lannes has been barely suppressing his laughter the whole time. Ney is raking his hand over his face. Murat is right; it won’t happen again, because Murat isn’t driving anymore. OUT.

Murat thinks of venturing a protest, but Ney’s face is almost as red as his hair now. Murat gulps and gets out. He doesn’t even get into the passenger seat, but crawls into the back beside Lannes where it’s safe. Ney stonily gets back on the road. 

“You should’ve just taken the wheel from the beginning,” Lannes chastises Ney with total seriousness. 

Ney decides that he hates everything and everyone.

***

**[By Histoireettralala]**

A heavy silence reigns in the car. Ney is so pissed he can barely enjoy this rarest of events: Lannes and Murat both shutting up.

Gritting his teeth, Ney seems determined to. Go. _Slow._

_**Slow**_.

Murat’s leg begins to twitch two minutes in. Next to him, Lannes is clenching and unclenching his hands, gritting his teeth almost as hard as Ney.

So. **FUCKING SLOW.**

How the hell did Ney even get his licence, Lannes’ GRANDMOTHER would kick him back to driving school if she saw this pathetic example of a dying snail.

A stony-faced Ney sees in the rear-view mirror Murat’s leg bouncing up and down, belying the olympian calm plastered on his face. When his eyes catch Lannes’, however, the sheer furor spilling out of his friend’s eyes rip a smirk from his lips.

And the utter bastard _slows down_ even more, in the midst of a concern of klaxons and insults. 

But as soon as Lannes opens his mouth for a well deserved bollocking, Ney EXPLODES in German. And then picks up speed, swerving madly between honking cars.

The furious diatribe is lost on Murat, more interested in the sudden masterful ride. _Now_ we’re talking! This is almost as good as a prancing horse.

Colors back in his cheeks, Murat decides to kick back and enjoy Ney letting loose. This, he decides, curls flying around his face, this is the life.

***

**[By JoachimNapoleon]**

Lannes hesitantly reaches for the radio. If they’re going to go hurtling down the road at breakneck speed, it only seems fitting to do it to music. But Ney swats his hand away. “NEIN,” he bellows; one of the half-dozen German words Lannes actually understands. Lannes glares and slumps back against his seat. If Ney was going to drive like a lunatic, he might as well have just left Lannes behind the wheel. Right Murat?

But Murat doesn’t answer. He’s put his window all the way down and is letting the wind ripple through his curls as Ney blazes down the road. His eyelids are fluttering blissfully. It’s like having your scalp massaged by a beautiful woman, he informs Lannes. 

Another hour goes by. Miraculously, no more traffic cops appear to hinder their progress. “It’s not fair,” Murat whines. “You’re going at least as fast as I was.” Ney threatens to slow down. Murat shuts up. He wants to ask if they’re almost there, but he senses now might not be a good time.

“I have to pee,” Lannes announces. Ney tells him to hold it in, they’ll be there soon. How soon? Just another hour. Lannes’ eyes bulge. He can’t wait that long!! This is urgent. Can’t they just stop at the next rest stop? 

“No.”

“Well at least you’re not speaking German anymore,” Murat says cheerfully. Clearly this is a sign that Ney’s mood is improving. Murat takes advantage of this opportunity to say that he, too, needs to pee. Surely that will settle it. Lannes and Murat look at Ney expectantly.

Ney begins muttering in German again.

***

**[By Histoireettralala]**

It’s calm for maybe five minutes, except for Ney’s mutterings. 

Lannes, closing his eyes, tries to calm himself down using meditation. But as Ney’s tone changes, tinged with worry of all things, he startles. What now.

And yeah, that’s a distinct “Uh oh”.

The car slows down on the road, cars overtaking it. Ney drives into the roadside, and with a heavy sigh, stops.

Murat smiles, ready to thank their driver for taking their needs in consideration, but Lannes wants to know what’s up. Ney clears his throat, and looking Lannes straight in the eyes, admits:

“Masséna borrowed the car yesterday.”

FUCK. 

Disgusted, Lannes bursts out of the car. For a tough guy, Ney is surprisingly soft hearted sometimes, and so fucking naive. Since when do you let Masséna borrow anything ? Ever ? Especially your car when you’ve made plans with it ? God DAMN IT Ney ? Lannes’ furious flailing seems to worry people in the cars passing by- who’s to know if this is someone in need or an escaped madman with murder in his mind.

Murat spares a glance for a brooding Ney, stretches as much as he can in this small car, and gets out, strutting down to the edge of the road. Ney, sinking in depression, doesn’t seem aware of anything but his crushing failure, but Lannes throws him an annoyed glare. WHAT.

“Watch _this_ , “ says a beaming Murat.

No sooner has he stuck his hand in the air than a white truck pulls off, and the driver gets out with a gentle, worried smile.

The driver is a very pretty woman.

Of fucking course, Lannes thinks, rolling his eyes and getting back into the car while Murat charms his way into getting help. As he closes the door, he sees the woman leading Murat up to her truck and opening the door.

“Ney,” he says. “NEY.”

A doleful glare is his only answer.

“Murat is going with a pretty woman”, he vengefully adds, and sure, _this time_ Ney looks alarmed, “ to get some fuel from the nearest gas station.”

Ney and Lannes both watch the truck disappear on the road.

Ney sinks back into despair. Murat and women. Would they even see him again. They were probably doomed to be stuck here forever. The police would come and this would get so messy, why had he trusted Masséna, God, you couldn’t trust anyone these days, not even your friends, hell no, and God he missed Aglaé and the boys. 

Lannes however, decides he doesn’t care anymore. Putting his feet up on the glove box, he sighs, and waits for fate, closing his eyes.

Three minutes and he’s snoring.

Ney’s sharp elbow in the ribs wake him up. “He’s back,” he hears. 

“The cavalry’s here!” shouts a radiant Murat bearing two jerrycans, the woman trotting about behind him. 

“Thank you so much, Madame Gherardi”, Murat says to her face, beaming like a child on Christmas morning.

The lady is suspiciously shiny-eyed, and _oh no_ , Lannes knows that look.

***

**[By JoachimNapoleon]**

“Get back in the car Joachim, your WIFE will be upset if we’re late,” Ney yells with a look of fiendish glee at the young woman. But rather than be dismayed by this revelation, she only giggles. He then notices that she’s wearing a wedding ring. Shaking his head, he gets back into the driver’s seat, deploring the state of the world.

The car is soon refilled and a glowing Murat hops into the back seat. Lannes is up front now, so the back is all his! He sprawls, propping his legs up against the windows. “What a wonderful day we’ve had so far!”

“You got a SPEEDING TICKET earlier,” Lannes reminds him.

“Minor details,” Murat waves a hand. “I made a new friend!”

“Oh is that what they call it now?” Ney asks dryly.

Murat gives him a wounded look. Ney IS aware that they’d still be hopelessly stranded without the lovely lady’s benevolence, right? He has a point, Lannes chimes in. Ney just glowers and continues driving in icy silence. The hotel was mercifully close. And then he’d have his own space. And peace and quiet. 

The road for the final stretch is winding and full of sharp, sudden curves. “Murat, you might want to buckle up for the time being,” Ney warns him. Murat just smirks. What’s there to be worried about? Not like he’s gonna go flying through the windshield while he’s laying down in the back. And seatbelts are so constricting! Murat is a creature of comfort. 

“Suit yourself,” Ney says grimly.

The final leg of the drive to the hotel takes them down a steep hill. Murat frowns as the car accelerates down the hill; he grips the edge of the seat firmly, struggling to remain in place. As Ney approaches the bottom of the hill, he hits the brake. Murat goes tumbling off the seat and to the floor. Lannes explodes with laughter. Ney takes the final turn into the parking lot a tad sharply for good measure, giving Murat one last violent jolt. A muffled “Owwwwww” emanates from the back. Lannes is doubled over and wiping away tears. 

“We’re here,” Ney declares triumphantly.

***

**[By Histoireettralala]**

The hotel looks pretty neat, which doesn’t surprise Lannes at all. Murat had booked it with Caroline’s advice, and Caroline had heard about it from Napoleon, who had it on good authority (Marmont - _boy_ did that one love his comfort) that it was a “decent place”.

Murat is already emptying the trunk of the car, setting aside Ney’s rustic little black sports bag and Lannes’ old military relic of a bag to get to his precious couture suitcases. Wiping imaginary dirt from the soft, shiny materials, he then sets them down the lane, almost as cautiously as he would his children.

Lannes, shaking his head, grabs his bag and Ney’s, throwing the black bag to their friend who’s already advancing toward the doors. Ney catches it without looking, and enters.

The young lady at the reception desk smiles when they gather in front of her. Lannes, with an engaging smile, gives her their names.

The lady’s smile turns awkward when she checks on her computer.

“How many rooms did you say you reserved ?”

Ney looks accusingly at Murat.

***

**[By JoachimNapoleon]**

“You did book. THREE. Rooms. Right?” Ney’s expression is as cold as a Russian winter. Murat unconsciously takes a step back.

“Well I uh. Actually that is. Um. No.”

“... Then tell me you at least booked two.” 

“I have the three of you down for one three-bed master suite,” the lady at the reception desk says cheerfully. “King-size beds, hot-tub, minibar, the works. One of the nicest rooms we have.” Murat appreciates her kind assistance. Ney looks positively murderous right now for some reason. 

“A MASTER SUITE, Ney,” Murat says for further clarity, because Ney doesn’t seem to be getting it. “I thought it’d be fun if we all shared a suite together! Don’t be so dour and menacing, it’ll be great!! We’re going to live like kings tonight.” Murat claps Ney on the shoulder, smiling from ear to ear.

Ney looks at Lannes. “And you’re okay with this?”

“She had me at ‘minibar.’”

***

**[By Histoireettralala]**

Ney, throwing his hands up in despair, looks as if he’s about to head out of the hotel and spend the night in the car, or walk all night just to get away from this madness. Lannes is actually worried for a moment. Ney, after all, has gone through much worse than a night long walk in the middle of nowhere to get where he wanted to go. Ney in a _mood_ can do _anything_. And that’s coming from a guy who, let’s be real, is pretty much known for the exact same quality.

But Ney sighs and, his little bag on his shoulder, resigns himself to the unavoidable.

( _Perhaps Murat’s wide hopeful eyes work, just the tiniest, teensiest bit. No grown man should look that child-like, Ney grumbles inwardly._ )

( _Perhaps the hot tub is actually a good idea. Wouldn’t it soothe Ney’s constant state of tension- owed to his companions, by the way)._

_(Perhaps the lure of a king-size bed and a minibar is good enough for him to ignore the fact that he has to share it with those two.)_

Lannes brightens when Ney finally nods his assent, and the reception lady can’t seem to recover from the double beaming grin attack from the two dark-haired men.

Murat leads the way down the corridors, his instinct, as usual, leading him immaculately toward their room without any instruction.

Lannes opens the door. Ney casts an apprehensive glance.

Oh!

**Oh.**

Oh, it’s _nice_.

***

**[By JoachimNapoleon]**

Murat struts into the room, studying the furnishings with a connoisseur’s attention to detail and nodding in approval like a monarch inspecting a new palace. He is even more pleased with himself than normal. Why didn’t his friends entrust him more often when it came to handling their accommodations? Imagining the one-star hovel they’d be staying in if either of the other two had handled it, he shudders involuntarily.

“I’ve gotta hand it to you this time, Joachim,” Lannes concedes. “This is exquisite.” Murat beams. Of course it is! They should know by now what impeccable taste he has.

Ney’s pleasure, on the other hand, is obvious purely from his lack of further grumbling. He puts his bag on one of the beds and goes to inspect the hot-tub. Yes. Yes, very nice indeed. Eyeing the complimentary lavender bath salts on the edge of the tub, he informs the others that he’s going to have a nice, long, rejuvenating soak.

Lannes tells him to enjoy the bath and don’t worry, of course we’ll be good!! He turns on the TV and explores the options, while Murat browses the room service menu. WE CAN ORDER MOVIES, Lannes announces. He reads through the categories list, in alphabetical order. Action, adult—

Murat’s head shoots up. WAIT, WHAT.

***

**{By Histoireettralala]**

Lannes and Murat stare at each other for maybe thirty seconds of perfect impassivity.

"Why the hell not," says Lannes, and Murat shrugs. Why the hell not indeed ? Where is the harm ? It's just a movie. He joins Lannes in the plush, luxurious seat, and Lannes browses through the movie titles, laughing out loud at some  
of them. The brief synopses soon have them in fits of laughter, especially when Murat remarks how this one sounds remarkably like Berthier's improbable menage a trois. Ribald jokes and vicious sallies just fly along shared   
recollections. Lannes clicks to watch the preview, and bursts into a fit of hysterical laughter.

"Oh GOD," he pants, "the guy DOES look like Berthier."

Murat, wiping tears from his eyes, bends over to reach the pocket of his coat, trying to grip his phone. He's laughing so hard he misses the first three times.

"What are you doing, " Lannes manages between a burst of laughter and a joke.

"I've GOT to tell Józef about this", Murat explains as he brings the phone to his ear. "Dobry wieczór, my friend!" he shouts. "Bonsoir Joachim!" Lannes hears in return. 

Fifteen minutes, Ney groans, wrapped in steam and delicious, hot water. Is it too much to ask for fifteen sorry minutes of peace! He considers getting out of the tub to yell at the two preschoolers he's obviously babysitting against his will. Maybe this would buy him a much needed break. On the other hand... they're supposedly adults, right, although he always had his doubts about their maturity. If they set the room on fire... Oh fuck them, Ney decides. It's on them.

The world is on fire, God is dead, Ney doesn't care. He's _having his bath_ , come hell or high water.

***

**[By JoachimNapoleon]**

Ney’s bath isn’t quite as relaxing as he’d hoped it would be—even over the sound of the bubbles churning he can still hear the roaring laughter of Murat and Lannes—what in God’s name are they doing, anyway??—but it still wasn’t too bad. A nice dinner via room service, maybe a little TV, and then he’d catch up on his reading for a bit before calling it a night. If he was going to endure a day at an amusement park with these two hellions tomorrow, he’d need to regain his strength.

Donning the silkiest bathrobe he’d ever laid a hand on, he exits the bathroom as the boys erupt in laughter once more. As the laughter fades, Ney can hear slow saxophone music and... other, familiar sounds. 

In spite of having just stewed in a hot bath for the past half hour, his blood freezes.

“I’ve actually done this before,” Murat is informing Lannes with a certain amount of pride.

“Really? I feel like my back would start to hurt in no time.”

“I was more focused on other things,” Murat brags. “Besides, you’ll never guess whose desk it was—oh, hi Ney!!! How was your bath?”

Lannes offers his stoic friend a bottle of liquor from the mini-bar. Poniatowski happily greets Ney from Murat’s phone. 

“Why the long face?” Murat asks. “The fun’s just getting started. You should see some of the titles in this playlist!! Anyway, the food should be up shortly.”

“If you think I’m spending the night watching this... this SMUT with you two—“

“—three!” Poniatowski interjects from the phone.

“—you’re rooming with the wrong man,” Ney finishes darkly.

“Oh don’t be such a damn prude,” Lannes admonishes him. “You’re almost as bad as Napoleon.”

Ney’s face reddens, but before he can reply, the sound of Celine Dion’s “The Power of Love” ripples forth from his phone: his ringtone for Aglaé. He had meant to turn it on silent!!! It’s already too late. Murat and Lannes look at each other, wide-eyed with disbelief, before collapsing against each other in uproarious laughter. Poniatowski is confused and wants to know what has happened. Ney answers his phone, his face burning.

“Hello my love.”

Aglaé assails him with questions. How is her dearest darling and has the trip gone well so far and have Murat and Lannes been behaving themselves and... wait, did she just hear a woman moaning in the background? Is he WITH someone?!?!

He hastily explains the situation, thoroughly mortified. 

Aglaé is both indignant and appalled. They ordered a WHAT?! Well let’s see what Caroline and Louise have to say about this!!! She wants to know why he doesn’t have his own room. Wasn’t he supposed to have his own room?

“It’s Murat’s fault.”

“Ah, well,” she says in a tone of complete understanding, “it usually is.”

***

**[By Histoireettralala]**

While Ney coos into the phone, Lannes, Murat, and Poniatowski engage in their own war stories over the moaning and banging and cheesy music of the movie;   
who, when, what positions, how many times, yes you actually can do that, just hoist her up and make sure she doesn't fall, better work on your abs, hahaha,  
and Ney can't take the constant dissonance anymore. 

Aglaé seems equally disturbed. This is not the quiet, intimate atmosphere they usually enjoy when they are together.

"I'll call you back later, darling, " Ney tenderly promises. Aglaé agrees and they hang up.

Ney rakes his hands over his face all over again. The demonic laughter, the moaning, the polish jokes, the empty bottles piling up on the floor and table,  
Poniatowski's tinny voice, Murat's upteenth recollection, Lannes' drunken guffaws, this is all too much. He needs to escape, now. His head throbs something fierce.

Amidst the drunken boasts and the truly shitty soundtrack, five minutes later, Murat's phone rings. 

"Caroline my love!" he shouts into the phone, "I LOVE YOU!"

Ney can't hear Caroline's answers, but Murat's fill in all the blanks.

"Yeah, we should have watched this one together, darling. This is truly ridiculous! But there is a scene on the stairs, and I thought, hey, that's like this  
time in the museum, remember ? When you couldn't stop co.."

Ney lets out an unholy noise of despair, cutting sharp even Lannes' hiccups.

***

**[By JoachimNapoleon]**

Ney is at a loss. Somehow what was supposed to be a peaceful night at the hotel has morphed into something out of Dante’s _Inferno_. He can only observe the scene in muted horror. The smell of alcohol in the room is overpowering; the minibar is now nearly empty. And, without any warning whatsoever, Murat has suddenly divested himself of his clothing.

Inspired by their latest rental—an Ancient Roman-themed adult film—Lannes uses one of the 1000-thread-count Egyptian bedsheets to wrap Murat in a makeshift toga. Caroline and Poniatowski, now observing via Skype on Lannes’ laptop, provide background commentary. Deciding some expert advice is in order, Caroline invites big sister Pauline to the session. She scrutinizes Murat’s toga with a discerning eye, recommending an alternative shoulder-draping technique. The adjustment is made and Pauline expresses her approval. Lannes smiles proudly at his handiwork. A few minutes later, he is wearing one of his own. 

“YOUR TURN, MICHEL!!!” Lannes exclaims. 

Ney says that he will see them both dead first.

Pauline chides him in the background. He really should loosen up a bit and surely Aglaé would love to see him in a toga, wouldn’t she? 

Before Ney can answer, there is a knock on the door. Ney realizes it must be the room service. He instinctively lunges for the remote and turns off the TV. A cacophony of disappointed comments ensues from the laptop. 

Ney realizes that a sober and decently-dressed responsible adult should answer the door. But Murat is already there.

***

**[By Histoireettralala]**

Murat opens the door with a grand gesture, smiling benevolently.

"Room service, Sir!" The announcement ends up in a confused gurgle. The young man turns pale, then red, then _squeaks_. Luckily, Murat is used to deal with discombobulated people. He gently takes in hand the heavy, bountiful trolley, gives the poor chap a cheerful smile, thanks him, and closes the door. 

"Why is the music gone ?" he asks an ashen-faced Ney.

No answer. Murat shrugs, mindful of his toga, and swaggers with his trolley toward his friends. Lannes is posing for Pauline, who eyes his slim waist and soulful eyes with a keen interest. Poniatowski is the first to notice the dinner; _finally, someone gets on with the program_ , thinks Murat, ever so thankful for his choice of bro.

Ney, on the other hand, has decided to find the young man and make him swear not to tell anyone what he saw. When he opens the door, the boy is still here. Dazed. He doesn't seem to register Ney's presence.

"Young man ?" enquires Ney. He waves a hand in front of his face, carefully. He sighs inwardly. "Young man ?"

A squawk.

"You see..."

"THAT WAS SO COOL!" If he was a lesser man the sudden proclamation would have made him jump back in fright.

Cool? COOL ? _What_ is the world coming to ?

***

**[By JoachimNapoleon]**

The urge to divert this impressionable youth from a path to ruin overtakes Ney. He addresses him with the utmost severity.

“Emulate nothing you’ve witnessed here. You will only bring disgrace upon your entire family.”

“Y-yes, yes sir,” the confused boy stammers, all the while trying to peer over Ney’s shoulder at the ongoing bacchanalia within. A loud crash suddenly reverberates through the room. 

Shit, what **NOW** , Ney wonders in cold despair. He promptly closes the door on the befuddled server and hurries to see what new devilry his accursed roommates are perpetrating.

Murat is in a heap on the floor, surrounded by various plates—most of them broken—of spilled food. 

Ney just stares. _How_ —??

“He tripped on his toga,” Lannes says.

Pauline reprimands him for not fastening it better. Caroline inquires, between squeaks of laughter, if her silly husband is okay.

“THE FEAST IS RUINED” Poniatowski wails.

***

**[By Histoireettralala]**

Ney is **tired**.

Very, _very_ tired.

“Goodnight, Caroline, goodnight, Pauline, goodnight, Józef . Lannes, clear this crime scene, please”, he says with a sweeping gesture encompassing the whole room.

Murat is still on the floor, blinking. He looks very calm, which worries Ney.

“Wait”, Lannes hiccups, “I know what to do!”

“Yeah, you do,” Ney barks, “save your own life by helping me !

-NoOOO. I mean, yes, but no! I have a BETTER IDEA.”

Ney ignores him to try to pull Murat up by gripping his arms. Unhelpful, the idiot begins to sing. And of course it’s a ribald song.

Caroline laughingly puts an end to her conversation, and so does Pauline. Poniatowski, however, seems worried and keeps shouting his anxiety, support, and friendship. God, how drunk is _he_ , Ney wonders, while Murat adds a bawdy  
chorus of his own invention. Christ, he didn’t need to know _that_ about Napoleon, thank you very much.

An angry voice in his ear makes him jump, as Lannes slurs: “Here, the doctor’s gunna make it aaall better!”

_What the hell ?_

“What the hell?” the phone yells too.

“Who is this ?” Ney asks.

“Who the hell called me ?” the phone shouts back. “This is Larrey! Who is dead or next on my Kill List ??”

***

**[By JoachimNapoleon]**

_God in Heaven._ “D-Doctor Larrey!” Ney stammers. “This is Ney. I apologize _profusely_ for this intrusion. I’m afraid Lannes, er, drunk-dialed you. He and Murat are in a wretched state right now.”

“What else is new,” Larrey says dryly. 

“LARREYYYY!!!!” Murat cries jubilantly. “Would you like to hear the new song I just made up about Napol—“

“He **certainly** would not,” Ney snaps. “Lannes, are you eating food off the floor? For God’s sake!” 

Lannes says there’s no point in letting perfectly good food go to waste. And he hasn’t eaten since breakfast! Does Ney expect them all to starve?

“Doctor,” Ney says, “about that Kill List.”

Larrey is sympathetic. Ney asks if the doctor might have any advice for how to get these two to wind down for the night? He’s exhausted and tomorrow is undoubtedly going to be a long day. 

“I don’t suppose you have any horse tranquilizers on you.” 

“Er, no.”

“A pity. Well, there is another way.” He whispers a single sentence through the phone. Ney’s eyes widen. It’s brilliant. Why didn’t he think of this before? Thanking Larrey, he commandeers the remote control.

***Thirty-five minutes later***

Ney turns off the TV. The formerly chaotic suite is now as silent as a crypt. Murat is curled into a ball on the opposite end of the couch, sound asleep; Lannes slumbers in his bed, one leg dangling over the edge. 

Ney has gained a whole new appreciation for the home shopping network.

He settles into his bed, feeling the triumph of a man who has successfully summited Mount Everest. Lannes was right; the doctor _had_ made everything all better _._

Ney would have to remember to grab him a thank-you present at the amusement park tomorrow. 

***

**[By Histoireettralala]**

Lannes opens his eyes, feeling exceptionnally groggy. His mouth feels like some small animal crawled inside it to die. Eww. And. _Ooww_. He scrunches his nose, disgusted, and wipes at his eyes. He’s not sure what exactly happened, which doesn’t overly worry him- worry doesn’t get him anywhere. He’ll probably get answers anyway -this tends to happen, whether he wants it or not, whenever he has “blanks”. 

He aimlessly wanders through the room, gathering clothes - _wait_ , he isn’t sure that amaranth jacket is his- and fragments of memories. Yeah, he, Murat and Ney were on that roadtrip but there had been other people (?) - Lannes  
distinctly remembers a beautiful woman checking him out- and she wasn’t Louise, which is disturbing, now that he can think about it. Given the way his head is screaming at him, he had quite some fun yesterday. But he pretty much draws a blank as to _how_ this evening ended. He’s not in jail, nor is he half naked in the street, so, all in all, it can be counted as a smashing success.

He enters the main room to find Ney sitting at the table, drinking his bitter black coffee. Fully dressed. Looking weirdly relaxed. The last point bothers Lannes for some reason.

“G’d morning”, he croaks.

“‘Morning, Lannes,” Ney answers, sounding excessively perky. Which is downright creepy, if you ask Lannes. There is something very wrong. Very, very wrong indeed.

And that’s when the penny drops.

“What,” he growls, “did you do to Murat?”

Ney doesn’t answer with the seriousness Lannes’ question deserves.

“Check the couch.”

Lannes doesn’t quite follow. Ney sighs and gets up, leading him to said couch.

There is a curled up mass of muscles, coton and black hair. Lannes hesitantly pokes at it, glancing at Ney.

“Murat?” he asks Ney.

Ney nods. The poking grows insistent and the mass groans.

“ **WAKE UP IN THERE** ”, Ney’s voice thunders, like a general’s on a battlefield. It sounds like something out of a war movie. In any other circumstances, Lannes would have admired it.

Right now, he just cringes in horror.

***

**[By JoachimNapoleon]**

To Ney’s surprise, the inert lump that is Murat barely stirs. It elicits a half-whimper/half-groan, remaining face-down on the sofa. 

Ney regards Lannes with a raised eyebrow. “Well don’t just stand there, help me sit him up.”

Lannes hesitates. This might not be such a good idea.

“Nonsense,” Ney says. “A cup of coffee and a hot shower and he’ll be good as new.”

The two of them wrestle the lump upright into a sitting position. Upon being let go, it almost immediately starts falling over again. Lannes deploys some pillows to keep the lump propped up. Amid more whimpers of protest, a pair of bloodshot blue eyes finally, reluctantly opens.

“Good morning!” Ney says cheerily, reveling in this karmic turnabout. Debauchery always came with a price.

“Mmmhfnnfmpfggh,” Murat responds.

Ney strides over to the window and yanks the curtains open with no warning whatsoever. 

Sunlight assails the room. Murat recoils like a vampire, shielding his eyes with the remnants of his toga. Lannes is wincing. He hurries to bring Murat a cup of coffee, pouring some for himself as well. Ney had at least been merciful enough to leave a half-full pot. 

Murat accepts the steaming cup with groggy gratitude.

“What’s the last thing you remember about last night?” Lannes inquires after Murat has taken a few sips.

“… Porn.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

“Why are we wearing bedsheets?”

Lannes doesn’t know, but remarks on the softness of the cotton. Ney says that Caroline can explain everything to him when they get home, as she witnessed the entire sordid evening on Skype.

Murat expresses relief. If Caroline already knows about it, at least he won’t be in trouble. Hopefully.

With a drill sergeant’s relentlessness, Ney sees to it that the two are soon both showered, dressed, Adviled, and ready to go. Miraculously, neither one has thrown up. _Must’ve built up a resistance_ , Ney realizes, and he’s a bit impressed in spite of himself. 

Murat sloths towards the door, mumbling about just wanting to go back to bed and why does it have to be so bright out? Lannes helps drag him to the car. 

Ney climbs into the driver’s seat. Off to the amusement park!

***

**[By Histoireettralala]**

Unfortunately, the road is still just as winding as it was yesterday. Murat and Lannes both turn a spectacular shade of green. Lannes swallows spasmodically. Murat winces and grips everything in sight. _Both_ have fastened  
their seatbelts. Nobody has anything against Ney’s driving today.

The silence is _eerie_.

Lannes begins to hum and Murat soon joins him. Ney, feeling like a shepherd dog in charge of a pair of particularly stubborn rams, glances at them every fifteen seconds. A wave of reluctant fondness for their dogged resilience keeps him quiet and his driving smooth. 

(He’ll take this secret to his grave.)

The drive, mercifully, is comparatively short. But minutes feel like hours in Lannes and Murat’s wretched condition.Yet, none of them asks Ney to pull over; proud to the end, they stoically endure the ride.

It’s only when they pass the entrance to the parking lot that Ney figure out what they were humming.

And, _fuck_. He’ll never be able to work with Napoleon again.

***

**[By JoachimNapoleon]**

Ney is pleased. Nobody has thrown up on the way to the amusement park. Both Lannes and Murat still look like death warmed over, but they seem cheerful enough. And Murat has paid for everyone’s day-pass, saying sheepishly that, while he doesn’t remember everything from the last night, he probably needs to atone to someone for something so here you both go. 

“It’s a good start,” Ney says with a wink, clapping him on the shoulder. “So, what should we do first?”

“THE PENDULUM OF DOOM!” Lannes cries.

“THE DEATH-DROP 5000!” Murat exclaims.

Lannes glares at Murat.

Murat glares at Lannes.

“PENDULUM.”

“DEATH-DROP.”

“PEN. DU. LUM.”

“DEATH. DROP.”

“Actually,” Ney intervenes with a hint of nervousness, “I was thinking we might start with something a little less… intense. Until both your stomachs are a little more settled from last night.”

Two disappointed faces stare back at him.

“I mean,” he hastily continues, “we’ll get to the Pendulum and the Death-Drop and all the other extreme rides later on. It doesn’t have to be right this instant. Look over there, the carousel here is legendary! It’s over a hundred years old.”

“So are you, apparently,” Lannes snaps. “A carousel? Seriously??”

“GROWN MEN don’t ride carousels!” Murat is indignant.

Ney quirks an eyebrow. “I absolutely remember you riding one with little Letitia just a couple of years ago.”

That was different, Murat sniffs, reddening.

“Fine then. Pick something—preferably something that won’t have at least one of you projectile-vomiting like Linda Blair in the Exorcist.”

Lannes glumly asserts that this criteria eliminates almost everything here. 

Murat nods. Ney should just let them take their chances. 

Ney sighs. “Fine. But whoever pukes on me is getting strapped to the roof of the car for the trip home.”

Murat’s eyes widen. He decides not to tell Ney how incredibly exciting that sounds.

***

**[By Histoireettralala]**

Ney patiently herds Murat and Lannes through the alleys, hoping they’ll agree on even _one_ attraction. But Murat consecutively nixes the Log Flume and the Swing Boat, and Lannes retaliates by rejecting the Star Flyer, the Madhouse  
and the Bumper Boats. It’s like babysitting two giant toddlers set on disliking - loudly- anything the other even looks at, and Ney is increasingly aware of the many incredulous stares and head shakes Lannes and Murat’s childish behaviour is attracting. Fuming anew, he abruptly stops in front of the nearest attraction, stating:

“BOYS!” 

And it seems to work on his "friends” as well as it does on his own children. Except of course Léon and Aloys at least are much more mature. Even Eugène, probably.

Murat stares at him incredulously. Lannes frowns, his foot tapping the ground.

“Since you _can’t_ agree on _anything_ , we’ll do this one. I don’t take any criticism. Now shut up and follow me.

\- But”, Murat tries.

\- NO, “ Ney snaps, uncaring.

\- But,” Lannes attempts, just to be glared at so fiercely he almost steps back. 

A fuming Ney steps pass the entrance. A beaming Murat joins him, followed by a grumbling Lannes.

When the red mist of rage lifts from his eyes, Ney blanches inwardly.

Hell, no.

***

**[By JoachimNapoleon]**

n his blind fury, Ney has inadvertently led the boys to…

**The Death-Drop 5000.**

It hovers over them like the tower of Sauron. Ney looks up. And up. And _up_. 

An icy chill grips him, even though the mid-summer morning is already scorching.

“YESSSSS NEY YOU’RE THE BEST!!!” Murat is in ecstasy, his sky-blue eyes as wide as saucers as he beholds this most coveted of rides. He’s been waiting ONE WHOLE YEAR for this.

“It’s not fair,” Lannes mutters, kicking a stone.

“Oh come on, you’re gonna LOVE this, I promise!!! And we can do the Pendulum of Doom next!” Lannes is somewhat mollified. As long as the Pendulum is next… Murat grabs him by the forearm and half-drags him to the gate in his exuberance. 

Ney doesn’t follow. His feet have suddenly become rooted to the earth. 

Murat turns back, confused. Why isn’t Ney coming?

_Oh, God. Don’t let them see._ _ **Don’t let them see.**_ _Get it under control._ Ney takes a deep breath. His crippling fear of heights is a secret he has masterfully concealed from everyone he has ever known; not even his beloved Aglaé is privy to it. And today is NOT the day for the cat to come out of the bag—especially not to his two most fearless, daredevil friends.

Murat and Lannes are looking at him in wide-eyed perplexity.

“I was just, uh, making sure I hadn’t dropped my day pass. I’m coming.” 

Through a gargantuan exercise of willpower, he manages to follow them to the entrance of the ride, studiously avoiding looking up at how damnably high it is.

_What in God’s name am I getting myself into?_

_***_

**[By Histoireettralala]**

The three men settle into their gondola. Ney is using all of his willpower not to flee the damn thing entirely. Lannes, next to him, is dead set on not showing any undue excitement. Murat, for his part, is literally vibrating with joy. The more  
gleeful he is in his anticipation, the sicker Ney feels. 

He has never hated anything so much in his entire life.

_Don’t let them see_ , he fervently prays, _don’t let them_ _ **see**_.

The higher powers he doesn’t even believe in don’t seem to despise him that much, as for now at least Murat and Lannes’ prodigious obliviousness protects his pride. But as the gondola starts its way up, Ney bites down on his whimpers. This is worse than the snowstorm he once walked through to get back home with a band of lost friends. This is worse than facing down armed   
thugs with nothing but his fists and guts. This is _worse_ than everything he can manage to think of.

Murat’s palpable thrill feels like the cruelest joke.

Ney swallows down another wave of panic as the gondola reaches the top of the Tower. Something must have alerted Lannes, who suddenly frowns at him and seems to inch a bit closer to him.

It’s too late.

It’s _too high_.

Oh God it’s **too fucking high**.

The instant they experience free fall, Murat’s wild whoops of joy stifle Ney’s horrified, panicked sob. 

They’re _flying_ , Murat dreams, elated, _flying_ like birds, this is the most awesome, the _freest_ he’s ever felt outside of riding a horse, jumping above his childhood country’s chasms, splashing down the river, the sun above his head, the wind behind his back, this is _life_ as it was meant to be lived!

Ney’s _sick_ , wonders Lannes, how come he’s sick when he didn’t even drink with us yesterday. A strange thought - I need to call Dr Larrey- brings a frown on his face.

I’m fucking _dying_ , Ney cries, deep down, stubbornly holding on to his pride. _Don’t let them see_ , _don’t let them see_.

When the brakes activate, Murat lets out a disappointed cry. Ney feels like his body has entirely shut down. The worst, though, is Lannes’ troubled, prying gaze.

_Don’t let them see_. 

Don’t let them _**see**_.

***

**[By JoachimNapoleon]**

Lannes is far more observant than most people give him credit for. And noticing Ney’s peculiar green complexion, clenched jaw, haunted eyes, and rubbery legs as he slowly follows a bouncing Murat off of the Death-Drop 5000, he can’t help but connect the dots.

_Ney is afraid of heights._

Lannes is mystified. He never imagined Ney could be afraid of anything. Yet the signs were unmistakeable. 

Mercifully, Murat, still reveling in his adrenaline rush from this long-awaited experience, seems utterly oblivious to the situation. Lannes will do his best to keep it that way. Ney is a proud man—maybe, Lannes reflects, a little too proud. He obviously never should have gone on such a ride in the first place. The fact that he did, told Lannes that he was hell-bent on keeping his phobia a secret. Even if it meant putting himself through torture in the process.

_He’s going to be a mess by day’s end._

“Are you guys coming?” Murat calls.

“Just… gimme a sec. Crick in my knee,” Ney says. The greenness in his face has been replaced by red.

“Okay. The Pendulum is that way!” he points. “I’ll meet you two tortoises over there!” He hurries through the crowd, curls ajiggle. 

“You go on ahead,” Ney says. “I’ll be along.”

“… Ney… if you, um, aren’t well…”

“I’m fine,” Ney says tightly, a touch of aggravation creeping into his voice. 

“… you don’t have to come with us. I’m just saying, I mean, if you’re not feeling up for the Pendulum, or some of the other really high—“ Lannes cringes inwardly. SHIT. He hadn’t meant to let Ney know that he was on to him!!! “—I, I mean, the other really wild rides…” he trails off at the look on Ney’s face.

“I don’t need to be babied,” Ney snarls.

“N-no, certainly not, that’s not what I meant!! I just…” Lannes sighs. It’s already too late to go back on this one, so he decides to stop the bullshitting and just be straightforward. “If you don’t deal well with heights”—that sounded way better than accusing Ney of being afraid—“it’s okay if you don’t wanna—“

“I WILL CONQUER THIS” Ney roars, loud enough that multiple heads turn in the crowd and silence temporarily falls over the immediate area. 

“TAKE ME TO THE FUCKING PENDULUM.” 

***

**[By Histoireettralala]**

Lannes is faced with an impossible choice: his first thought is that _this is madness_. Ney should never do such a crazy thing; this needs to stop right now. But “stopping” means _telling Murat_ , which is another problem he really doesn’t need, and _forcing Ney to stop_ , which is, honestly, a terrifying prospect. Lannes isn’t sure that sitting on him would stop him, because Ney in a rage is properly unstoppable. And Lannes already knows, for reasons he’s not ready to linger on, just how that would end.

_Fuck this_ , Lannes thinks. This is the roadtrip to Hell.

And now they have definitely lost Murat. With their luck he’s probably thrown himself into the next catastrophe.

The terrible truth dawns onto him, and by God she’s one ugly bitch. He, Jean Lannes, is now _the responsible one_.

Fuck.

**Fuck it all to Hell**.

Ney isn’t waiting for him either, marching down the alleys as though charging the enemy.The look of rage on his face is awe inspiring. People jump away from him in fright, which, Lannes knows, would pain Ney if he was aware of it. As if  
parting the Red Sea, he goes through waves of scuttling men, worried women, stunned children, hell bent on reaching his destination. Dazed, Lannes notes that Ney has simply followed Murat’s tall silhouette, eyes determinedly set on bouncing black curls.

Near the gate of the Fucking Pendulum.

_Fucking Hell_.

As Ney stalks toward his target, Lannes stares at Murat with despair.

Bloody buggering _shitfest of a fucking_ _ **Hell**_.

“I WAS PROMISED DOOM, “ Ney states, feet squarely planted into the ground, facing his enemy. “BRING. IT. ON.”

Murat is practically clapping in approval.

Lannes is **horrified**.

***

**[By JoachimNapoleon]**

Ney hadn’t known that the gondola of the Pendulum of Doom would also be ROTATING while it hurtled back and forth through the air at such an unholy speed. Not that it would’ve stopped him from getting on it anyway; not now that Lannes has discovered his fear of heights. Now, Ney is determined to take on every single death-defying ride in this godless hellscape of a park if it kills him. Multiple times over. Just to prove that he can. 

Clinging with white knuckles to the shoulder harness securing him to the seat between Murat and Lannes, he glances over at Murat on his left. Mercifully, the silly creature is still oblivious to everything but his own effervescent joy. As the spinning Pendulum begins its latest plunge he unleashes a deafening WOOOOOOOOOOOO the whole way down and over to the next side. 

Lannes dares to cast a look of concern at Ney and is met with a soul-shriveling glare. 

“THIS IS YOUR FAVORITE RIDE AND YOU SHOULD BE ENJOYING IT” Ney thunders through Murat’s whoops.

“I just want to make sure you’re—”

“I’M HAVING A GODDAMN BLAST, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.”

“LANNES!” the exuberant Murat cries. “YOU WERE RIGHT! THIS IS SO AWESOME!!!”

Lannes forces a smile. The last thing Ney needs is for Murat to catch on. Ney gives Lannes a pointed look, with a tight, subtle head-tilt towards Murat. The ferocity in his eyes said one thing: _DO NOT let him catch on_. Lannes nods silently to let Ney know they’re on the same page. Murat, however, is too busy stretching his arms up to the heavens, reveling in the next swing of the pendulum, to notice the exchange. _Just act natural_ , Lannes tells himself. _The Doctor will know what to do. He always has all the answers!_

After the Pendulum, Murat happily informs Ney that it’s his turn to pick the next ride! 

Ney demands to know the name and whereabouts of the highest, fastest rollercoaster in the entire park. 

As Murat gleefully describes the thrills of the legendary Devil’s Vengeance to Ney, Lannes takes advantage of the distraction to whip out his cellphone.

“AGAIN, LANNES?!” the irritated voice of Dr. Larrey explodes through the phone. “What in God’s name is it now? I swear if you and Murat are drunk again I’ll—”

“No Doc, it’s not that, this is serious!” Lannes interjects, trying but failing to keep his voice down. “It’s Ney. _I think he’s going mad_.”

“He’s what? Lannes, I don’t have time for this bullshit.”

“I mean it Doc! We’re at the amusement park and I found out he’s afraid of heights and now he—”

“Ney’s WHAT?!”

“SHHHH you mustn’t tell ANYONE!! I shouldn’t even have said it! But now it’s like he’s in this psychotic frenzy and wants to ride ev—”

The phone is abruptly torn from Lannes’ hand.

“Larrey I am PERFECTLY FINE, IGNORE EVERTHING THIS MISCREANT JUST TOLD YOU.”

“Ney,” Larrey says, “if you’re afraid of hei—”

The rage-filled cry that Ney emits before ending Lannes’ call to Larrey is like nothing Lannes, Murat, or Larrey have ever heard in their lives. _What have I done?_ Lannes thinks miserably.

“I’ll be holding onto _this_ ,” Ney snarls at Lannes, pocketing his phone. He stomps off in the direction of the Devil’s Vengeance.

Murat is wide-eyed. 

“Lannes… is Ney… really…”

Lannes clamps a hand over his mouth. “ **DON’T SAY IT** , don’t even let him _know_ that you know. _He will murder us both_. Promise me you won’t say anything about it.”

“Hm phmmfpmfh,” Murat promises through the hand. 

“Good.” Lannes unmuffles him. “Now then. Do you have your phone on you? Since Ney has confiscated mine.”

“Yeah.”

“Text Larrey and see if he can figure out a way to help us.”

“‘Kay, gimme a sec.”

Murat begins texting. 

“ **LARREY IT’S MURAT, NEY HAS LANNES’ PHONE AND THE CAR KEYS AND LANNES SAYS HE MIGHT MURDER US, SEND HELP PLZ** ”

Murat proofreads the text and nods in satisfaction. Sounds perfectly fine. He presses “send.” Can they go ride the roller coaster now?

***

**[By Histoireettralala]**

Lannes half expects the rollercoaster to catch fire from the sheer hatred radiating out of Ney’s blue eyes. Casting a glance at Murat, he sees him pocket his phone before Ney can tear his eyes from the Devil’s Vengeance.

“Let’s go”, he croaks.

Murat, bless him, lets his excitement bleed through again, and not a second too soon, for Ney has finally withdrawn from the Great Stare Off to cast suspicious looks at his friends. 

Lannes thinks he should feel insulted by the level of distrust, but he can’t muster anything beyond a vague and overwhelming sense of horror. 

“Right,” Ney growls, “let’s do this”. And he stalks threateningly toward the cart. His face prevents anyone else from hopping in to join them, to the dismay of the young man managing the entrance; but when he dares a look in Ney’s direction, he blanches and nods - alright, alright, Sir, you’ll go alone with your  
friends. Strangely, of the three men, only one seems to be really into the ride, a tall dark haired man whose unfeigned pleasure rivals that of the happiest kids. The furious one looks one second away from murder or self combustion; and the only word fitting for the third one’s face is _sorry_.

They settle, with Ney insisting on a front place and Lannes securing a spot right beside him. _Maybe that way Murat will be able to text Larrey as needed_.

The alarm rings, a cheerful voice reminds the passengers about keeping their arms and legs inside the cart and please do NOT stand up, and Lannes can’t quite believe that Murat actually _whines_ at that; and the gates rise.

The silence is stifling.

The rumbling of the cart on the tracks sounds a little like a drum roll just before an execution.

They go up, and up, and Lannes watches Ney’s hands clench so hard he worries that Ney might never be able to open them again. Eyes stubbornly set on the horizon, he seems to be waiting for certain death.

Lannes throws a glance to the beautiful ride sprawling around them, and sees indeed a death sentence elegantly written in the tight turns, steep slopes, and multiple inversions of the course.

They turn, Ney growls, Murat whoops, Lannes prays.

The cart goes down, bringing forth a new snarl to Ney’s lips, a rumble of joy from Murat just behind him, and they speed up into a loop, tilting right, and then Lannes feels years peel off his life at Ney’s _noise_.

**Please** _Doctor Larrey, please_ , he fervently prays. _Please help us_.

***

**[By JoachimNapoleon]**

Murat isn’t as oblivious as everyone likes to believe.

Most of the time.

Some of the time.

Well, at least not today. 

And, more importantly, he can MULTITASK. 

(Just as long as it doesn’t involve maps.)

But, he’s perfectly capable of having fun on a high-speed rollercoaster while simultaneously adhering to the solemn task Lannes has given him—to keep Doctor Larrey apprised of The Situation. 

He notes astutely that the howl that just escaped from Ney during the first steep descent did not sound at all like that of a person enjoying himself. Lannes is cringing beside Ney, trying not to be too overt in his worried glances. He looks back at Murat. Murat flashes him a smile and an “okay” sign. “I’m on it!” he says, holding up his phone for Lannes to see. Lannes nods. Murat dutifully fires off his next text to Larrey.

“NEY IS SCREAMING AND NOT IN A GOOD WAY ☹️😣😩.”

More texts follow. 

“ACTUAL PICTURE OF THE THREE OF US RIGHT NOW: 🎢 😄😨☠️”

“LANNES DOES LOOK ILL THOUGH SRSLY 🤢🤢”

“NOT SURE IF FROM HANGOVER OR BC HE’S WORRIED ABOUT NEY”

“DOC WHAT DO WE DO IF NEY HAS A ❤️ ATTACK”

“CPR CERT EXPIRED 5 YEARS AGO”

The Devil’s Vengeance has now reached its top speed. Murat pauses from texting to enjoy the ride and let the wind blast through his curls. How delightful!!! And Ney seems to be holding up somewhat better—at any rate, he hasn’t howled again since the beginning. Murat leans forward to glance at his friend. 

“Ney, are you… uh…” It’s probably not a good idea to ask him if he’s okay, Murat realizes just in the nick of time; that’ll just make him mad. “Are you, um, having fun?” 

Ney’s head slowly turns. A cadaverous face regards Murat with a strangled bewilderment. Without uttering a word, he turns back around.

“NEY HAS GONE MUTE 🤐” a mystified Murat updates Larrey.

“I THINK I’M THE MOST RESPONSIBLE ONE LEFT NOW LOL”

To Murat’s disappointment, the rollercoaster soon ends. He hops out of the seat. Lannes reaches tentatively for Ney, but is coldly rebuffed. 

“OFF THE COASTER. NEY IS STAGGERING LIKE A ZOMBIE, NOT SURE HOW MUCH MORE HE CAN TAKE TBH” texts Murat.

“Who are you texting?” Ney growls suspiciously.

“Caroline,” Murat lies smoothly.

“Show me.”

“It’s private!!” Murat clutches his phone to his chest, feeling a surge of panic. “It’s… it’s about sex! We were sexting!!” 

“Since when you are you ever shy about showing anyone THAT,” Ney snaps. With a deceptively quick motion, he snatches the phone away from Murat. His eyes skim the line of messages to Larrey. His face darkens.

“Maybe we should take a break,” Lannes suggests in a pleading tone.

“Whoa wait a sec Ney, who are you texting on MY phone?” Murat is indignant.

“Larrey. To apologize for your shameful conduct and your horrid all-caps text messages, and to let him know that I have ALL the phones now and he won’t be bothered any further.”

Murat ventures a feeble protest but Lannes gives his arm a hard squeeze. 

“What are we gonna do?” Murat whispers. 

“Let’s just try to keep him occupied with something… less high up, for the time being. He’s got the keys and our phones, so we’re pretty much stuck. Hopefully the Doc will send help.”

***

**[By Histoireettralala]**

Lannes is getting mad.

Not only has Ney STOLEN their phones and IGNORED Lannes’ absolutely warranted concern regarding his deteriorating mental state, Ney is also hell bent on destruction- his own, which, _fair enough_ , but also Murat’s and Lannes’ by association.

Ney swings for the next two hours between endless replications of his ride to Hell, with Murat and Lannes as unwilling, defenceless hostages. When he gets out of his second Death Drop it’s to stomp towards the Pendulum of Doom again, and his third ride on the Devil’s Vengeance is no better than the first. He’s green. He’s snarling. His fists are clenched, his lips white, his body locked into fight mode. His mood is _awful_. 

Lannes looks at Murat and finds him looking all dejected, unable to muster any of his usual enthusiasm.

Ney has effectively **ruined it**.

Enough is enough, Lannes decides, and as soon as they step off the Pendulum of Doom (for what, the third, fourth time ?) he steps in front of Ney and states with the utmost authority:

“Enough now. Murat and I are going to eat, and you’re coming with us. We’re done with the rides now.”

Murat nods, and there’s something pitiful about it that tugs at Lannes’ heart.

One greasy sandwich later his friend’s usual silly grin and confident bounciness have reappeared. Murat flounces off to some ring toss game, to bring something back for the kids. 

Ney is staring into space. 

Years ago, Augereau, in a show of good will, had taught Lannes how to pickpocket- _because_ , he’d said with a wink, _you never know what kind of skills you may need someday_. Lannes hadn’t protested. Seems like he’s about to put this lesson to use.

Manoeuvering around a seemingly shell shocked Ney isn’t easy, and Lannes scowls at his useless fingers, wondering how Augereau makes it look so easy with these huge paws of his. The pocket full of its phone bounty is _right here_!

But as Lannes finally manages to get one finger onto a phone - hopefully his own, but any would do- Ney moves and an iron fist falls on Lannes’ wrist.

When Murat comes back, holding a gigantic stuffed bear that’s nearly as big as he is (he’s going to give it to Letitia), it’s to find Ney and Lannes going off on each other and on the verge of fighting. Accusations of theft, lies, and immorality are flying around. 

Murat looks at his bear and thinks of his children and the glee on their little faces when they see what he brought back for them. 

“Look, guys, ” he interrupts them without a care for their argument. “Isn’t this bear adorable ? Letitia will be _so thrilled_ when she sees it, I’d bet she’ll sleep on it for a week. I saw things that would bring your little princess over the moon, Lannes! And Ney, there’s a shooting stand with toys for boys, I saw something perfect for little Eugène, come and see!” As the two would be brawlers gawk at him, Murat spins on his heels, clutching the giant plush toy like a protective mama bear.

“ **My kids** are about to be the _happiest children on earth_.”

And silly as it is, this is enough to puncture Lannes’ bubble of anger and spur on both his and Ney’s competitiveness. No way are the little Murats, spoiled rotten as they are, going to lord their supposed superiority over their own brood. Lannes and Ney fall into step behind their friend and the three of them are soon enough shooting and throwing rings for all they’re worth.

As Lannes, trying to collect a fifth toy, is about to bribe the guy running the game out of desperation, three different ringtones blast out of Ney’s pocket. Seizing his last prize- which he intends to give Larrey when this harrowing day is over, Ney hastily fishes out the offending objects and throws Lannes and Murat what’s theirs.

“Yes!” he barks.

Murat and Lannes display similarly shocked and awed faces.

It looks like the Rescue Squad has finally arrived.

Ney takes the lead in their trek toward the parking lot, and Lannes takes advantage of the time Murat loses to hoist his ridiculous load of gigantic stuffed toys to eventually win his damn fifth toy.

When they finally join Ney in the parking lot, they find Davout parking their car next to Napoleon’s SUV. Ney is cramming his bounty into the trunk. 

Napoleon looks at them and then at Berthier just next to him, then back at them and their huge fluffy companions. There is a _world of judgement_ in his gaze, and Lannes feels irritated for some reason; Murat’s figurative hackles rise too when the grey eyes dwell on the massive crocodile he reserves for his eldest.

Non negotiable, this is for Achille.

Davout doesn’t blink when Murat determinedly opens the front door and seats the crocodile down without a word. He doesn’t say a thing when Ney protests because he had intended to ride with Davout - mostly because an incensed Napoleon snaps “ _And get out of listening to what I have to say ?_ _ **I THINK NOT**_ ”. Murat keeps on fitting his children’s toys into the car seats, belts on, because he doesn’t want his babies to get damaged goods. Letitia would be sad if the ears are bent, and Lucien’s dog has a fur worth some consideration, and he’s not some goddam brute who would make his children _cry_ , thank you very much.

Ney is already chosing a place in the car when Lannes explodes.

Lannes has had a very stressful day. He’s possibly hungover, his patience has been tried all day long and now Murat is hoarding a whole car because he is _ridiculous_. The dam breaks.

“Are you okay with **THIS** ?” he asks a bewildered Napoleon, gesturing at their car.

Napoleon looks. A croc is riding shotgun. A gigantic bear is hovering behind Davout. A floppy bunny and a confused looking dog complete the show.

Davout looks thoroughly unimpressed, grim as ever, and ready to go.

Napoleon arches an eyebrow. So ?

Lannes loses it.

“Do you really stand for that ? Is your _peacock of a brother-in-law_ really going to take the whole space for himself and get away with it ? What are my kids and me, some second class citizens ? What about **equality** , huh ? ”

Napoleon is flabbergasted. Murat doesn’t know what to say. Ney is stupefied- there’s still plenty of room in the trunk, what’s the big deal anyway ? Yes, Murat is a bit ridiculous, but how is that worth losing his shit over ? Lannes should be used to it by now. 

But no, and the Gascon keeps ranting, screaming to Napoleon’s face “This is _nepotism_ , Bonaparte, literal _nepotism_! What about our ideals ? You WHORE, when did you sell out ??!”

Breathing an inward sigh of resignation, Berthier knows he’s going to have to defuse the situation, because Napoleon is just speechless with fury over the sheer ludicrousness of it all.

***

**[By JoachimNapoleon]**

The eldest of those currently assembled by a considerable margin, Berthier is used to being the most level-headed man in the room, and takes great pride in his skills as Napoleon’s designated Peacemaker. By the time Lannes has finished venting his frustrations at anyone who will listen (and some, like Murat, who won’t), Berthier has subtly gathered both sets of oversized stuffed prizes from Ney and Lannes, and neatly arranged them for travel. A gigantic flamingo now sits on the floor of the front seat underneath Murat’s crocodile. Comfortably ensconced on the floor in the back are a massive stuffed duck, tortoise, aardvark, and snow leopard. Ney, meanwhile, is content to have his toys placed all together in the trunk.

Davout takes it all in, and sighs. Driving a stuffed menagerie home certainly isn’t the most glorious assignment he’s ever had. But, he reflects, it isn’t the worst either. And at least he’ll be riding alone. Upon being given the go-ahead from Berthier, Davout stoically takes off without another word.

“Now then,” Napoleon says frostily, “since Lannes is so concerned with egalitarianism, the three of you can pack into the back seats together, as _equals_.”

“Who gets the windows?” Murat asks.

“Work it out amongst yourselves.” Napoleon snaps. Muttering under his breath about “these three useless goats,” he gets back into the front passenger seat and sits, scowling, with his arms folded.

Ney hastily crawls into the back and over towards the first window seat. Murat and Lannes look at each other knowingly. Lannes drops a fist into an upwards palm; shall they rock-paper-scissors for it?

No, Murat says gloomily. He hates riding in the middle but he’ll take one for the team this time. It’s probably for the best to keep Lannes and Ney apart for now. Pickpocketing attempts generally don’t make for happy relations.

“I’ll find a way to make it up to you,” Lannes says, feeling bad about calling him a peacock earlier. 

Soon the six-foot-plus Murat is unhappily wedged in between Ney and Lannes. Lannes notes the unsurprising absence of Murat’s seatbelt and, sighing, quickly buckles him in to preempt a waspish comment from Napoleon; God knows they’re already in enough trouble as it is.

And now, Napoleon informs the trio as Berthier starts the car, it’s Lecture Time.

The less said about their antics in the hotel room last night, the better, he begins gravely; but rest assured, thanks to Larrey, Caroline, and Pauline, he knows _everything_. As three of Napoleon’s most preeminent colleagues, he has a right to expect them to comport themselves more respectably in public. And why the devil are they always troubling Larrey with such endless foolishness? The man is a practicing physician! He doesn’t have time to supervise their drunken revelries and misadventures at an amusement park. And for God’s sake Murat, stop texting people in all capital letters.

“It’s for dramatic effect!” Murat protests.

“Shut up,” Napoleon replies. “And get your CPR certification renewed! Five years expired!! With four young children?! _Ma foi_!”

Abashed, Murat looks down at the floor.

Catching Ney in the rear-view mirror giving the downcast Murat a smug smile, Napoleon turns his ire on the redhead.

“And you! What do you mean going to an amusement park with a fear of heights? How did you think it was going to go? Were you planning to ride that old carousel all day while Murat and Lannes did all the high rides?”

Ney goes red to the tips of his ears.

“Well,” Napoleon continues, “did you at least manage to conquer your fear?”

“Eventually,” Ney says tightly.

“Good. At least _something_ positive came out of this weekend. Maybe we’ll put it to the test in the near future by taking you skydiving.”

Ney goes sheet-white in an instant. Murat, who had been starting to glaze over, is suddenly bolt-upright, eyes shining. Skydiving! 

Napoleon glances at him through the rear-view mirror, a hint of a smirk on his thin lips.

“I didn’t say I was taking _you_.”

Murat looks like a kicked puppy.

“I guess,” Napoleon says in a tentative tone, “you’ll just have to behave yourself for awhile. Then we’ll see.”

A small ray of hope. Murat nods, still looking at the floor. Napoleon bites his lip. Sometimes it was just too easy. 

“And speaking of behaving yourselves,” Napoleon addresses all three, “I’ve brought along some suitable entertainment for the remainder of our journey. Since, clearly, you all need some lessons in self-improvement. Berthier?”

Berthier obediently inserts a CD into the player. 

Lannes, Murat, and Ney sit in a nervous silence, waiting with bated breath and considerable dread for the CD to begin. 

A man with a nasally voice and professorial air begins narrating the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius.

“ _Oh God_ ,” Lannes chokes.

“ **Silence** ,” Napoleon commands.

Ney supposes it could be worse.

Murat falls asleep within ten minutes. 

“Wake up that imbe… actually, nevermind, just leave him,” says Napoleon. His brother-in-law is hopeless anyway. Thank God he at least has a good heart.

Lannes tries desperately to fall asleep too but he’s never been good at sleeping sitting up. He makes a mental note to ask Larrey for advice about that when they get home later. Casting a jealous glance at the blissfully slumbering Murat beside him, Lannes shakes his head. He closes his eyes and tries to think about anything but how long of a drive they have left. 

Ah, oh well. He settles back into his seat, trying to get comfortable. 

All things considered, he reflects, it hadn’t been _too_ bad of a trip.

*****THE END*****

  
  



End file.
